Sleepwalking
by MonPetitLoupDeMort
Summary: Luke thought that he'd left behind his sleepwalking episodes years ago. The way things look now, he might be sleepwalking for the rest of his life. Re-edited to be less confusing and no longer a one-shot.
1. Dreamer

AN: Well, this was supposed to be a oneshot, but then it had an attack of plotline and re-editing. So I've expanded the original post into the first chapter and will be continuing with more chapters.

* * *

Luke was kind of annoyed. They'd gotten to Sheridan and frequency measuring device still wasn't finished. Hadn't they given the researchers plenty of time to work?

Doing nothing but sitting around stressing out while waiting for them to finish building it had gotten tedious, so Natalia had organized a combination training session and picnic for them just outside town. They had allowed her to do so only on the promise that Anise or Tear, or anyone else really, would be running the picnic part. And then Jade took over the training part. So, in reality, all Natalia had was the idea, and the persistence to make sure the gloomy, strained mood didn't kill it.

Luke didn't mind, he had been feeling much better after the first hour of taking out his recent stress on the local monsters. Hitting things with swords just seemed to make everything better. Now, in the third or fourth hour, he was settling into a proper stamina-rhythm.

Once they had finished with the teamwork drills, Jade had allowed them to wander apart a bit to find their own single battles. Of course, he kept track of everyone so that no one was ever out of shouting range in case of trouble. So Luke knew he didn't have to worry about any of that, which was nice. No details, just him, his sword, and some monsters to beat up. He briefly wondered if all that responsibility was further stress on Jade, or if the routine of organization relaxed him. He seemed to enjoy it, which Luke just couldn't comprehend.

But if he kept drifting off into thought like that it would soon be him, his sword, and some monsters beating him up. Re-evaluating his situation, he realized he was more tired than he should be by now. But he probably just shouldn't have taken that extra helping of Anise's cake. The sugar rush had been nice at the beginning, but he must be crashing right about now. Oh well, he could work through it like always.

Another set of monsters dispatched, he took a moment to rest. He had never had a crash quite this hard. His sword had wavered far too much for his liking in his last maneuver. But he was still doing fine, he assured himself. And anyway, nobody else was even starting to tire. He moved on to find more monsters.

Partway through his next battle, his ears started ringing and he half-stumbled before fully getting his sword through the monster in front of him. He was in the process of sitting down when he heard the thump behind himself, and tried to spin around. All he succeeded in doing was falling down in a disgraceful heap to the accompaniment of rude laughter, and seeing the monster that had been sneaking up behind him fall over with a spear sticking out of its back.

Jade approached to retrieve his spear and gave Luke an appraising look.

"I'm fine, honest. Just drifting off for a moment, sorry Jade," Luke said sheepishly.

"You're lucky, is what you are. 'Drifting off' in battle is not acceptable," Jade replied in all seriousness.

"Won't happen again, really."

"Just what I was thinking," Jade said with a smile, "So, are you going to head back on your own, or do I have to escort you the whole way to ensure that you get there?"

Luke had the feeling that he would be supervised either way. He also had a suspicion that staying wouldn't be an acceptable answer. It couldn't hurt to try anyway. At least not too much.

"But-"

"Glad we cane to this little understanding. Tear's already rented the rooms at the inn, so just ask the receptionist, and she'll give you your key. I'll inform the others of your departure."

Luke couldn't comprehend how someone could look so terrifying while smiling so pleasantly. He grumbled some more, but agreed to go back to the inn, like he had known he would have to. He didn't mind being told to rest, but Jade could have done so in a less demeaning way. Of course, this was Jade, any other way he would have handled it would probably been even more embarrassing. But at the very least, Jade didn't have to treat him like so much of a moron. He knew how inns worked at this point, thank you very much. He also knew how to keep that sentiment to himself, since Jade would just take it as further bait to tease him.

He didn't think he had worked that hard, but on his way back he kept stumbling, and at one point his vision blurred up so much that he had to rest against a tree until it passed.

It took him much longer than it had to get out there, but he got back to the inn. He had almost gone in the item shop, but caught himself at the last moment. He must be really tired, because the inn and the shop didn't even look anything alike.

He put up a weak smile for the receptionist. Pride be darned, at this point he just wanted a bed so he could go to sleep now. She was pleasant and helpful, but he still found himself dozing off on his feet when she went to grab his key. After snapping back to attention, he thanked her, grabbed the key she held out, and scurried off down the hallway.

The corridors of the inn were all twisty and long. He wasn't sure if that was because he was wandering in circles or because the inn itself was confusing. He eventually reached a door that matched the number on his key, way in the back corner of the inn. Honestly, could they have put his room any farther from the entrance?

He jammed the key onto the lock, but it refused to go in properly. Then he realized he was trying to insert it backwards. He went to insert it again, but was overcome by another dizzy spell, and ended up just leaning against the door, staring at it for a few seconds. When the three or four little holes in the knob lined up and became just one hole again, he inserted the key, and finally got the door open.

Looking around, he realized that Tear had booked him the single this time. All the better for him, not to have to worry about being woken up by someone coming in later.

He barely got his sword off and propped up in the corner before he became unable to resist the call of sleep. He just flopped backwards onto the bed, still fully dressed otherwise, and promptly fell sound asleep.

His dreams felt different than usual, although he was unsure how at first. As he wandered through dreamscapes that made far too much rational sense, he came upon a room he felt the need to enter. When he did, he discovered it to be full of filing cabinets and storage bins, with spotty lighting at best. He could hear someone rummaging around, and had the conflicting urges to avoid the person at all costs and seek the person out. By now he was getting lonely; his dreams had never been so devoid of people before. Even if the people in his dreams were usually criticizing him. Or screaming.

The other person made a grunt of satisfaction, probably finding what he was looking for. But then Luke could feel him leaving, and the loneliness won out over the fear. He ran to catch up to and cling on to the retreating presence.

The dream ended right when he grasped the other person and felt a yank, whereupon he slowly drifted back to consciousness. He felt much better than before, although he was still as tired as, if not more tired than, when he went to bed. But he didn't feel quite right.

He was moving and walking- Oh. He'd thought that he'd left behind his sleepwalking episodes years ago.

But as he became more aware, he realized he was more 'striding with purpose' than just walking or stumbling around like he had most often when waking up from his previous episodes. And he still wasn't slowing down. In fact, his body wasn't responding to his mind at all. But this wasn't entirely unusual either, it had occasionally happened to him before within the first few minutes of waking from an episode, so he didn't worry unduly.

When he finally focused his attention on his alternately drifting and darting gaze, he relaxed. This was the way to his room again, so soon he could get back to sleep. From the look of the darkened hallway, he had been asleep for a few hours. The others were most likely back and in their respective beds by now as well.

Strangely, though his body still felt more tired than it should, he felt like there was some purpose on the border of his mind for going to- back to- his room other than sleep, which put him back on edge, because he couldn't quite grasp what it was.

He arrived outside the room- his room and turned the knob slowly, then pushed the door open silently, so as not to wake... but that was nonsense. He was out here, so of course no one was in there sleeping. Although he wanted to laugh in embarrassment when he realized he had forgotten to lock his door.

But judging from the lump on the bed, he'd have to revise his opinion of the emptiness of the- his room. He just wished that he'd fully wake up soon; he still didn't even feel in control of his own body.

He really wanted to ask the person on the- his bed what they were doing there, and at this hour of the night. Even stranger, now that he was getting closer, he could see that they were wearing his clothes too... And the position they were lying on the bed, as if they had dropped there in sheer exhaustion...

He was getting more and more agitated, but his mind still wouldn't let him put together the fragmented pieces of information into a proper idea of what was happening. At least not until he felt his arm draw his sword and saw himself hold it before him… Or rather, he saw Asch's arm draw and hold Asch's sword in front of him, perpendicular to the floor.

How could he have ended up in Asch's body? Unless he was still dreaming, but no, this was real, said everything from the faint throb in his- not his, Asch's, leg to the writing on the door. The academic part of his mind, small though it may be, was desperately trying to distract him from what was happening with guessing how he had injured his leg. Probably strained it over-training. Again.

He pushed those thoughts aside, because avoiding the situation was not going to make it better. He had learned that lesson well.

But maybe the situation was getting better on its own, he thought, as his hand, Asch's hand, discarded the sword he had drawn. He was looking around the room, searching, Luke realized. For w- Oh. Not getting better.

There was only one reason to be staring at Luke's own sword so intently. Luke could practically see the images before him, thoughts he'd only ever flirted with, but always skirted away from. And they'd, his friends, probably believe it of him. He'd given them ample reason to, time and time again.

And now his sword was in Asch's grasp, felt right, except for the fact that it was in the wrong hand.

The arm holding the sword, his sword, moved back to hanging over the person on his bed's heart. There was no hatred in the motion, only duty, obligation, but that didn't comfort Luke at all.

It began raising the sword with the clear intention to strike, and Luke began mentally flailing and screaming, but he could do nothing as the sword reached its apex and swung downward, impaling itself into the body's chest with a muffled thud.

His mind just stopped entirely for a moment right then. Everything, thought, attempt at motion, speech, everything ceased, and he could do nothing but stare down at the bloody, dead body in his bed.

His own dead body.


	2. Dreambringer

AN: If you came here directly, please go back and (re)read the previous chapter, as I have expanded and edited it quite a bit. This chapter likely won't make much sense if you don't. The timeframe of this chapter overlaps with that of the previous chapter, from a different perspective.

* * *

Asch had not come to this decision lightly. He didn't really want to kill his replica, even if he did often despise it. But from what Spinoza told him about the Big Bang theory and his own fonon degeneration, this was necessary.

He knew he was weakening, and Spinoza's measurements gave him a timeframe which was far too short for what he needed to accomplish. Spinoza's sentimentality towards the dreck had precluded him suggesting the only viable solution for keeping Asch alive, but it hadn't prevented him from laying out all the framework for Asch to piece together in his mind.

Whichever one died first, their fonons would flow into the other, Spinoza had told him. Asch couldn't let himself die, he needed to do so much, and the replica was so useless, it had even said as much itself. With the replica's fonons he wouldn't be being pulled apart and drained from anymore. He told himself that he had to do it, that the replica would even probably agree.

Not that he was going to give it a chance to disagree. Screw honorable battle, he needed quick and dirty and certain. At least his special operations position gave him a good grounding to begin planning. And with his channel to the replica, it was almost too easy.

What hadn't been quite so easy was figuring out how to get into the replica's mind without alerting it by causing it pain. Usually he didn't have to care about that, because he if he was contacting it, he wanted its attention, and pain was a wonderful attention-grabber.

He finally got in with minimal effect, and found it to be fighting monsters somewhere outside. He couldn't directly access the replica's senses without risking alerting it to his presence, but he could get a general feel for what was going on around it by the replica's reactions and thoughts. He considered taking control and letting a monster do the work for him, but he knew its friends couldn't be far. And he wouldn't be properly satisfied unless he did the deed and had the confirmation by his own hands.

Which meant he had to separate it from its friends. He focused all his attention on his replica. The best way to get it sent back to town would probably be to get it injured, so he subtly made it feel tired and distracted.

That last monster had almost succeeded, but the replica was ignoring him far better than Asch had expected. He redoubled his efforts, and was again almost rewarded when the necromancer interfered. Trust him to be keeping close tabs on the idiot.

Asch was in the middle of muttering some nasty curses at the necromancer when the started way the moron tripped and fell all over himself at the necromancer's approach surprised Asch into sharp laughter. Ginji gave him a weird look, but seemed to know enough not to make any kind of comment.

Oh, maybe he should be thanking the necromancer rather than cursing him. He was making this just too easy. When the replica folded and acquiesced like he knew it would, he waited until it got closer to the town, then risked looking out its eyes. Right, Sheridan. After telling Ginji to get close from the opposite direction, he turned his attention back to the replica, checking to see if it had noticed him.

Of course not, it thought that it had just had a dizzy spell and was pushing off from the tree it had braced itself on to continue towards town now.

He mostly ignored the replica from there on out in favor of preparing his equipment, only cursorily checking to make sure it didn't mess up getting to the inn, and continuing to make it feel tired. He was beginning to feel the strain of exerting this much influence over the replica, but he wouldn't have to keep it up much longer. And soon, he wouldn't have to worry about anything like that ever again.

When he felt arrival-feelings from the replica, he looked through its eyes again to get the room number. By this point it was less him generating feelings of exhaustion in it and more shoving his own tiredness on it. With one last, strong effort he got it to cut short any preparations and just fall asleep. After checking to make sure that it would not wake soon, he pulled away from it and back into the world around himself.

He wrapped up his preparations, not needing much equipment for such a simple mission. His replica looking so much like him did apparently have its uses after all. Why break in when you can just beg off to the receptionist about losing your key?

They arrived, and he had Ginji land a half hour's walk away from Sheridan. The trusting boy had no idea what Asch was here to do, and Asch had no doubt he'd try to stop him if he did. What was it about the replica that made people get so attached to it? He left Ginji with instructions to stay put, telling him that he'd be back much later in the evening, and to be ready for a fast takeoff. Ginji smiled and waved him off like always, despite the fact that Asch never smiled or waved back at him.

It was dark out, which meant fewer witnesses. The time flying here had taken meant that the replica's friends were likely back at the inn be now as well, but as long as he was quick and quiet he had no worries about them.

He smiled for the receptionist as he knew the replica would and asked her if she liked his new outfit and wig. He flirted a little, and when he finally got around to asking her for the spare key, she was more than happy to help. He waited until he was out of both sight and earshot before dropping the cheery façade and letting out a disgusted sigh. He never liked doing that, but even he could concede that there were a few situations where tact was called for over brute force.

He sat on a hallway bench and closed his eyes, feigning sleep while he once more rummaged through his replica's mind. He needed to know if there was anyone in the room with it, and while entering its mind while it was sleeping was much easier than when it was awake, its senses were much harder to access when it wasn't using them. He let out a grunt of satisfaction when he ascertained that the replica was in fact alone and sound asleep. Not much longer now.

He was having a little difficulty pulling out of his replica's mind. It seemed his replica got clingy in its sleep. He finally managed to yank himself free and settled back into his own body, getting up and striding towards Luke's room. Scanning the hallways with his eyes, he was glad that nobody was wandering around. The fewer people that saw him, the better.

He had a teasing feeling at the back of his mind, like that of forgetting something and not knowing what it is, but he knew he hadn't forgotten anything, so he ignored it. It definitely could not be nerves about what he was about to do, because he didn't get nerves about killing people anymore. And anyway, it wasn't even a person, it was his replica. He curtailed that train of thought before it could sound any more like he was still trying to convince himself.

He reached for the knob, and chuckled darkly when it opened freely under his hand. He hadn't needed to get the key after all. The idiot hadn't even remembered to lock his door.

The room was mostly dark, and the replica was lying exactly where he knew it would be. He shut the door behind himself and waited for his eyes to adjust.

When he was ready, he walked over to the body on the bed and drew his sword. A vague feeling of sickness, unease, touched him, and he paused.

He did not allow that treacherous urge to hesitate to grow into anything more. But then he realized that there might be a good reason to hesitate. The replica's friends wouldn't stop looking for whoever had done the deed, and even with the precaution of not using his regular sword, there was always the chance that his actions could be traced back to himself.

He couldn't face why he didn't want any of them knowing he was the one who had done this. It came to close to admitting that he was ashamed of what he was going to do, and he wasn't.

But the perfect vehicle to eliminate all those problems was sitting propped up in the corner of the room. His eyes lit on the replica's sword, and he knew its friends wouldn't be tirelessly searching for the truth of the matter if they believed they already knew it. And it would be so easy to believe with all the depressed, guilt-ridden sniveling the replica did.

He took up the replica's sword, brushing aside the thought that it felt a little to right, correct, in his hands, and abruptly stabbed the replica clean through the chest before he could hesitate again.

He just watched for a moment, then reached out a hand to its neck, feeling its pulse faltering and finally ceasing. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the fonons, but only felt a meager few slip from Luke's body to himself. Nothing even close to what Spinoza had described.

But he couldn't worry about that now. He made one more quick check that it was really dead, before rearranging the body so that its hands now gripped the sword still protruding from its chest. He was careful not to smear any of the blood, which seemed to be everywhere.

It was only after he stepped back to appraise his work that he allowed himself a shudder of revulsion. While he certainly didn't have a problem doing what needed to be done, he did not enjoy messing with corpses. That was the necromancer's specialty.

He waited the rest of the requisite half hour, the time after which it was impossible to revive someone by spell or life bottle, passing the time by changing into clean clothes and erasing any trace of evidence that he had been in the room.

Leaving the way he came, and glad that his luck still held in that nobody was wandering the halls, he found himself contemplating the stray thought that his replica had even managed to mess up such a simple thing as dying.

Chuckling humorlessly, he hurried back to the Ginji and the Albiore to set up the next act in this little drama.


	3. Awakened

In the morning, Guy had been anxious to get going to the lab. Everyone knew it was just his thinly veiled excitement at getting to see new fontech, but they humored him. So it was perfectly natural for Guy to be the one who had gone to wake Luke.

It was also eminently normal for Luke to oversleep on such an important day, and somehow it always ended up being Guy going to wake him. Luke oftentimes didn't take so kindly to being woken, and had little compunction about expressing that, so it didn't seem unusual when Guy tore back out into the lobby, other than the purposely unreadable expression on his face.

It was, however, quite unusual when he unfearingly and unashamedly grabbed Jade's arm and proceeded to attempt to drag him off in the direction of Luke's room. Jade appraised the extra shade of paleness on Guy's face and the concealed panic beginning to leak out around the edges of his eyes, and let himself be dragged off.

It was quite strange for Guy to come to him first with something upsetting him this much. Maybe Luke had asked for him. Not that anything that could make Luke ask for Jade over Guy could be anything good.

But that was all the time Jade had for speculation before they reached Luke's door, Jade always made sure he knew what rooms everyone was staying in, just in case, and Guy made a few half formed then aborted sounds that might have been the beginnings of warnings that he could not finish.

Wanting to get this over with, Jade briskly shoved the door open. As he waited for his mind to catch up with the scene laid out before him, he noticed absently that Guy was averting his eyes from the grisly scene. That was probably a more normally human reaction than his own intent stare. But he didn't need the human part of himself right now, if it even existed.

The scene was almost pretty, in a poetic sort of way. He could almost imagine that it had been staged. Sunlight gushed in the open window, and a light breeze ruffled the curtain, one of the few pieces of fabric in the room not in the process of turning some shade of red-brown. The scene was peaceful. Final.

There had been no struggle, internal or external. The oddly appropriate once-white blanket was blending in with the once-white coat to form a single, unbroken stain. Bloodstain. He'd never had this much trouble looking at a body, a corpse, before. He'd never had a corpse that had been a friend before, his traitorous humanity whispered, refusing to be silenced.

But waxing poetic would do nothing about the situation. Not that there was much that could be done, save minimizing the fallout. Guy was practically useless right now, but at least he'd had the sense to get the one person who could handle this… atrocity. None of the others would see this, Jade decided right then. The news would be hard enough as is, let them say their goodbyes after it's been cleaned and tidied up. The body, that is.

He thought of sending Guy back, but the state he was in now would only serve to panic the others more. He shut the door and leaned in closer to Guy, face to face, speaking slowly, simply and commandingly, with the backing of all his military experience.

"Stay here. Guard this door. Do not let anyone in. I will be right back. Do you understand?"

Guy nodded, looked grateful for the distraction, for Jade taking charge and telling him what to do, giving him something he _could_ do. And it would also give him time to pull himself together.

On his way back to the lobby, the irrational urge, need, to create a replica of Luke flashed through Jade, and he laughed bitterly. A replica of a replica, could that even be done? And then the look Luke would have given him to know that he was even half-heartedly considering such a thing came to him, and he wasn't laughing anymore. He considered that maybe he hadn't left his old habits as far behind as he had thought.

Dead. Gone. Still words he had no satisfactory concept of, feeling for. But he had no time for his own personal issues right now. The others would require his full attention, between informing them and keeping them… what? Calm? Rational? Those were responses only monsters like himself could feel upon the receipt of news of such a stunning, personal loss. Sane, then. He'd settle for keeping them sane. He wasn't losing any more of his brood.

After reaching the lobby, he drew the remaining members of their group over to a corner for some privacy. He had already composed himself and mentally rehearsed his words on the walk here.

"There has been an incident. Apparently Luke has been less emotionally stable and recovered than he had been letting on. It seems that last night he succumbed to that turmoil. He's dead," Jade said slowly and clearly, as close to mournfully as he ever got.

He watched their expressions attentively as the information was absorbed and appalled comprehension dawned at separate intervals on each face. Jade moved to intercept Tear easily enough, as he had already predicted her attempt to rush to Luke's room.

"Let me-" Tear all but screamed as she attempted to yank free, but he held her in place.

"He's gone," Jade said in a tone of absoluteness. The blood had been drying for far too long to be within the window of opportunity for revival.

"But maybe-" Her scream was turning into a whine, a plea. Begging him to be wrong, teasing them, anything to make what he was saying not true.

Jade held her firmly, and looked her square in the eye until she wilted and stopped struggling. Letting go of her as soon as he was sure she wasn't going to try anything, he turned back to Natalia and Anise. Natalia appeared to be going into some kind of shock, while Anise was struggling to get her emotions under control. Natalia steeled herself and looked at him.

"Is there anything we can do to…?" But her voice trailed off mid-question, as she was unable to finish and keep her composure at the same time. She looked to be clinging to that composure and regal bearing like some kind of last lifeline.

"No. I will take care of it. Please return to your rooms, all of you. I'll fetch you when… things are ready." Jade couldn't bring himself to take her up on the offer, not in the state she was in. And he needed time to make arrangements for taking care of matters.

Anise took charge of herding Tear and Natalia towards her room. Jade noted the determined expression on her face that likely meant she was forcefully ignoring her need to break down until they all got to the privacy of the room. He knew Natalia and Tear were in good hands, likely better than his own for these sorts of matters.

No matter how often he did, informing families of the death of a loved one in war never got any more comfortable. He knew Luke considered them family, as did they him. And what was Luke if not another casualty of a ridiculous war between the Score and humanity?

"It's strange. I can't remember the last thing I said to him. I should, but…" Natalia's detached-sounding voice mused while fading off into the distance.

Jade crushed the urge to laugh in a hysterical manner as his own last words to Luke came back to him. 'I'll inform the others of your departure.' How absolutely, absurdly appropriate.

Jade was still in the lobby making lists of what he needed to do in his head, in part to give Guy a little more time, when Asch burst in the door of the inn, radiating anger and frustration and some degree of concern. No doubt his connection to Luke had been affected by Luke's rash action. After sweeping the lobby with his eyes, Asch stalked over to where Jade was standing.

"What happened? What has that moron done now!?" he snarled at Jade. Jade felt no need to be as tactful as he had been with the others. He doubted Asch would appreciate any polite euphemisms or dancing around the issue.

"He killed himself."

"He-"

Jade watched as Asch fell silent, looking less stunned than confused at the revelation. Maybe he'd known all along, since whatever he had felt when it happened, and had just been refusing to accept it.

But something else was off about his demeanor, Jade felt. Yes, the anger and concern were to be expected, the rude abruptness, but something…

When Asch stood there in silence a minute more, Jade realized what was missing. Asch had no curiosity about the affair. No burning desire to know exactly what had happened, as he normally would have.

And then a myriad of tiny details clicked into place in Jade's mind. The angle of the sword, the awkward grip of Luke's hands, the lack of expression on Luke's face, the staged quality of the room… Asch had no curiosity to know what happened because he already knew, knew better than anyone else alive right now. Jade was dead certain of it.

But the rational part of him was already moving on to the fact they now needed Asch, because without Luke's power, the same as Asch's, they couldn't lower the lands, couldn't do anything.

As much as he could, he stomped down on his new level of loathing for the imposter before him, resisting the urge to clap sarcastically at his masterful, near-perfect performance. With practiced ease, Jade let nothing of his previous train of thought show on his face, keeping a neutral expression while extending his hand to Asch.

Asch looked confused for a moment, then briefly grasped his hand awkwardly, before releasing it and making a subdued offer of assistance. Jade took him up on the offer, turning to lead him back to Luke's room, and keeping only half a mind on their conversation.

Maybe Asch thought he was trying to comfort him, or invite him into their group, their grieving, their solace, but really, he was inviting Asch to his own personal living hell, of the kind that only Dr. Jade Balfour could devise. And he must really be backsliding if he was willing to reaccept that title and all the implications it bore. He momentarily considered silently apologizing to Luke, but then decided that he really wasn't at all sorry about what he was going to do.

They needed Asch, yes, but they didn't need him to be happy. Jade would extract retribution from Asch by inches. He was going to be introduced to subtle shades of miserable he had never thought possible, and as soon as he was no longer indispensable…

Jade curtailed the thought. He shouldn't get too far ahead of himself. He wouldn't want anyone catching on too soon, as they would if they caught sight of the wicked, humorless grin threatening to break out on his face.


End file.
